


Like Boys and Birds

by pineovercoat



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: (attempted), Emotional Manipulation, I Love Garbage meme, M/M, Mutually Requited Annoyance, Seduction to the Dark Side, Unreliable Narrator, Unresolved Tension, Vanitas Being an Asshole (Kingdom Hearts), hate flirting, self-loathing narrator hates on the dude he wishes he was, trying to straddle that line of canon personality and tragic complex villain, while also over-indulging in the ridiculous cadence of van's speech
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23208646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineovercoat/pseuds/pineovercoat
Summary: A boy who's immune to darkness is of no use to us.Vanitas wants to see what all the fuss is about.
Relationships: Riku/Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 91





	Like Boys and Birds

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to see these two piss each other off in KH3. 🥺 like, before the vanitas heel-face turn i also wanted. for flavor
> 
> also, halfway through, me: i dont know 😬 is this dialogue like, overmuch  
> vanitas, canonically: you’re gonna see me choke the life out of terra and aqua and then we’ll see how long you play the pacifist  
> me: ah. right. _you_
> 
> he really does get the best lines

So _this_ was Riku- the real thing, anyway.

Intrigued, Vanitas studied him from the cool shadows of the bailey walls. Proud, straight-backed stance. Wide shoulders, set with conviction. Born-again. Righteous. A knack, like all other martyrs, for choosing the losing side.

Working in tandem with the strange flashes of light that made up Radiant Garden’s quaint defenses, he cut through the Unversed like they were nothing. It hurt, but it was worth the pain to watch him work, to pick up the pattern of his swings, to see darkness so consumed- a Keyblade Master, through and through, for all the good that did anyone. Even the old man spoke of him with respect, which was ridiculous. He’d thrown that aside when he’d chosen to turn his back on real power for something as useless as the warmth of the sun.

But he _was_ strong, Xehanort’s original thirteenth- Vanitas would give him that. He moved like a dancer and hit like a beast. All the tenacity and resourcefulness of a drowning man- he was everything they'd wanted Ventus to be. It was no wonder he’d been the Organization’s first choice, powerful as he was. Quick, too, Vanitas observed, despite choosing a ball and chain over a place of honor.

The Light. What a joke. The whole mess could be hilariously cosmic, if you were so inclined. Here he was, boy prince of Hollow Bastion, the very same Riku who wore his power with pride and kept it with violence, setting penitent foot on the stones of a Radiant Garden restored. No crown, no dominion, chained by his oaths. Regret made such a waste of perfectly good monsters.

But this one wasn’t _entirely_ beyond salvaging. Xehanort had said Riku was _immune_ to darkness; Vanitas had never heard anything so laughable in his whole life. With Riku out of his reach, the old man had gone and gotten the next best thing, but Vanitas could tell when a gauntlet was being thrown, and a challenge was a challenge, after all. He had so precious few of those; what was a little bit of fun along the way?

He could see it, too, in the light shining from him, and its match, the darkness, in perfect balance. Harmony, smooth as the surface of a calm lake. He wanted to break that surface, to skip rocks across the peace that disguised the real nature of this Master Riku of the Destiny Islands. He could tell, watching him fight- he kept his arms raised high and all the soft parts of him exposed, like he knew no one would ever get close enough for them to be a vulnerability. Awfully familiar, that stance. He was meant to be a weapon- Vanitas knew it. And he should be one, by rights. Peace looked so cheap on him. How would he wear war?

The last stroke fell, and Vanitas felt the last of the Unversed return to him. No better time to find out.

“You know, I don’t believe a single thing they say about you,” he called. “You’re actually a hard one to get alone.”

Riku pivoted in place, searching, and found him just as he settled into a comfortable perch on the high bailey walls. Pity- his words didn’t hit quite the way he would have liked. But it would take bigger stones than that, he knew. He had his attention now, at least.

“Isn't it suffocating?” he crooned, tipping his mask into his palm.

From this new vantage point, Vanitas could see wariness settling over him at the words, drawing his muscles taut. He felt his own shoulders relax in response. The high ground was a heady thing- no wonder the Guardians were all so insufferably self-righteous.

“That pest of a King is never far,” Vanitas tutted, lifting his keyblade to observe it in the light. “He should really pick on people his own size, don’t you think?” With a sharp flick of his wrist, he aimed the pointy end Riku’s way. Vanitas imagined the words trickling the length of the blade down to him, slow as a bead of blood. “Rules us all out.”

That one landed exactly as planned. Riku jerked, head whipping from side to side as he realized he was cut off from help, or, more likely, the one who needed help was cut off from him. Noble upstarts were all the same. Always something to prove- that much was written all over his face.

And such an easy face to read, too; Maleficent must have been a fool for ever believing his loyalties were certain. Well, if she was that incompetent, she deserved what she got- the fast track to hubris at the hands of a sure bet. Watchful, Vanitas clocked Riku’s eyes as they tracked over him, flickering darkly at the sight of his corded armor.

_Remind you of anything?_ he thought. A smile tugged at his lips. _Red and black and you all over._

“What have you done to him?” Riku demanded, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Not _yet,_ anyway.” Was the royal headache really worth the fuss? He was only out of Riku’s field of vision, after all. Unharmed, alive to vex them all another day. Vanitas rolled his eyes. “Evidently we _need_ him.”

Of all Xehanort’s directives, that one was the most irritating. As far as he was concerned, the Seven and the Thirteen were a back up plan, and a sloppy one at best. What else could it be, when so many of the candidates were so utterly worthless? He’d find Sora, pull that weakling out of him, and become what he was meant to be, before it ever came down to using plan B. The old man and his chess games were only that.

But he did recognize good practice. How could he not, after years of playing apprentice to Xehanort? And it was good practice to look after your investments- contingencies, back-ups, failsafes.

Upgrades.

“No, you’re all safe as houses for now,” Vanitas drawled, swinging his legs and his keyblade in lazy counterpoint arcs. “I just wanted to meet you.”

Riku lifted his own keyblade in front of him- a heavy, brutish thing. Long reach, Vanitas noted. Good conductor. Like blade, like wielder.

“Who are _you_ supposed to be?” Riku bit out, disdain sharp in his voice.

“You want to be a bit more careful with double edged swords, _Master_.”

Riku scowled, and Vanitas felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle and rise with the rapid darkening of his expression. He tightened his grip around Void Gear’s hilt, muscles tensing with adrenaline. _Easy there, would-be,_ he thought _._ _Been asking myself that one from the start._

Blue light split the air. Thunder followed. Veins of lightning clung like to the bailey walls where he’d been lazing only a second before, like a spider’s web. _Quick_ , Vanitas admired again, landing neatly on the cobblestones only yards away from him. It was almost enough to make up for the crystal clarity of his tells. His shoulders were moving in time with his breathing now, eyes sparking like his magic, every inch of him bleeding destructive energy.

So riled, so fast! Taking a small measure of pity on him, Vanitas lifted his left hand and flexed his fingers in a coy wave. “It’s an honor. I’m a _big_ fan. Or, I was.” He shrugged. “Before you lost your touch.”

His stare went cold, assessing. The time for idle chatter was over, it seemed. _Good_. He’d been spoiling for a fight.

Riku moved forward with that dancer’s grace, and Vanitas hoped against hope for something interesting. Aqua hadn’t disappointed him, either- and here on the same field of battle, besides.

He’d hardly needed to expend the effort. Riku's swing went wide. Vanitas laughed- _was this really the best the Masters could do?_ \- only to be taken off guard by a concussive force which blasted up from under him and sent him sprawling.

He recovered quickly and met Riku’s eyes. There was a hard smirk on his face, one that spoke of strategy, assumed victories, _sure bets_. Cursing himself, he saw the ploy for what it was. The town’s quaint little defense system was still active. His sloppiness had been a distraction meant to herd him into place. Riku was positioning him like a piece on a board; Vanitas ground his teeth. Played for a fool. Fine. He wouldn’t be underestimating him again.

Riku moved to circle him. Vanitas let him. Cunning he might be, but he was far too honorable for a stab in the back. It didn't used to be that way, Vanitas knew. He was the greatest dishonorable traitor of them all, a shining beacon. Common wisdom said old habits died hard; time to see if it held true.

"You're not like us," Riku said, his soft voice threaded through with something flinty and imperious. "Not exactly.”

Was there anything more infuriating than someone who believed that they knew better, _were_ _better,_ than you? His hand curled tighter around the hilt of the Void Gear. Worse still, Riku had had a suspicion, and he’d been the one to unwittingly satisfy it. Vanitas chafed at that. He never handed a single thing over for free.

“Not a Nobody,” Riku decided, head tilting. His voice went softer still. “Something else. One of his, though."

_His._ How clever. He never was his own, was he? Only ever half of something. An even smaller fraction now, by Xehanort’s estimation. One-thirteenth. He felt his grip go tighter.

"Well done,” he ground out. He clapped, letting the keyblade’s chains rattle and clang. Riku glanced down at it, but didn’t flinch or even wince. “You are _wasted_ on them, really.”

His chin lifted, the tilt of it full of arrogance and disdain, but he said nothing, clearly reining himself in again, choosing the high road.

_Don’t bore me now_ , Vanitas thought, bristling. _It was just getting good._

“Don’t you _miss_ it?” he said, gesturing down the length of his own body, the armor that wrapped him in shadow.

“No,” said Riku. “You can tell Xehanort- I know the road my heart walks-”

Vanitas snorted. He was no one’s messenger. “Spare me. All that garbage about the light.” He flapped a hand, insouciant. “Come on. You’re with _friends_ here. You can tell the truth.”

His lip curled. The muscles of his sneer shook like a leaf on a branch, and Vanitas felt like he was finally striking the rich vein he’d been searching for. Now that he’d found it, he followed it, eager.

“You’re angrier now than you _ever_ were,” he realized. It filled him up to the brim with an impish glee; all of that fury and nowhere to put it! Some golden boy. He cut steady circles around him, boots tapping out a ringing volley on the pavement. “It’s always right there, just under the surface. Wow.” All of him was alight, filled up with the rush- that half second of anticipation before kicking the hornet’s nest. “Doesn’t it get uncomfortable? That mask you wear?”

“You’re one to talk,” Riku spat, his shoulders stiffening.

“Low hanging fruit,” Vanitas chided. He lifted his helm free and shunted it off to the crook of his arm. The air was cool and pleasant after so long in its stifling darkness, but more refreshing still was the _look_ on the Seven’s best and brightest face. “What did I _just_ say about double edged swords, Master Riku?”

Silence. A perfect playing field.

“I mean it,” wondered Vanitas, pressing his advantage. “How _do_ you manage to breathe under all that weight?”

Riku looked stricken, his proud face pale and drawn. “...Sora?” he asked, voice trembling. He shook his head. “No. No. You can’t-”

“Can’t I? I mean, you’d know all about it.” He smiled at him, ingratiating. “What darkness does to a face. But I guess for _you_ it was a little more like the lights were on and no one was home. How _is_ the Realm of Darkness this time of year, Master Riku? Or maybe I’m better off asking your friend Aqua, she’s probably an expert by now, have you seen her...?”

Riku lashed out, forcing him to dance backwards out of reach, abandoning his helm to raise his keyblade up over his head. It clattered to the ground, out of reach, but he could replace it easily. Worth the roll of the dice to see the green eyed monster up close.

And they were pleasant enough eyes, really. He would even go so far as to say they were nice. But there was another hue that suited them better. Other emotions, too. Mockery. Cruelty. Hatred. He’d seen them, the way they transformed that face into something transcendent. If only it were the real thing, and not a pale imitation....

Metal ground, sparks flashing as he held his keyblade in place. Riku bore down on him, arms straining- just as he predicted, he’d left his core wide-open. He flicked his eyes downward, telegraphing his intent, and Riku corrected his mistake immediately, leaping back and out of the way.

They stood arms length apart, breathing hard. Riku watched him, wary, animal, his eyes wide to the whites.

“Temper, temper,” Vanitas sang, darkly amused. "I really am only here to talk."

"Yeah?" he said, gritting it out through his teeth. "You and all the rest of them. You sure love the sound of your own voice."

" _My_ voice? No, no." Vanitas lifted a hand, languid, and waved it in front of his face. "Come on. Aren't you the littlest bit curious?"

Riku went rigid. "No."

"Liar," he accused, sweet as sugar. The way he was watching him was undeniable; he did want to know. He needed to know. No one who made a habit of chasing far-off horizons would let something as commonplace as danger outweigh their own thirst for knowledge.

He dismissed his keyblade and took a slow step forward; Riku held his ground, eyes hard, even as Vanitas reached for him.

“Felt good, didn’t it? Cutting loose like that?” said Vanitas sympathetically, stepping close to take Riku’s hand in his. Steady, sure, he guided it into a fist. He was keenly aware of the keyblade at his back, only feet away, but Riku didn't move to strike him. Instead, he stared at the hands cupping his own, his expression unreadable. He only had to get him halfway there before he finished the gesture for him, fierce, the closed ball of his hand trembling. He admired the roiling anger in it, lashed so tightly under his surface. So easily inclined to violence. Such a talent for it, a regular prodigy. He was almost jealous.

“Look at you,” Vanitas breathed. “You miss it, don't you?"

Riku’s lips thinned. “You don’t know the first thing about me,” he insisted.

“Don’t I?” He gestured to his chest. “Look at me. We’re connected. Sora’s heart and yours; yours and mine. I _know_ you. I know every little thing you’ve done and _oh_ , the things you’ve done.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He moved to rip his arm away, but Vanitas held fast, and something on his face shifted, melting. The tension seeped out of him. His face shone with compassion, with _understanding._ Vanitas felt his heart begin to race; _no_ , this was all wrong, this wasn’t--

”You’re just as lonely as I was,” Riku murmured.

Vanitas wrenched his arms away. All of him felt white-hot, like he’d stepped into an inferno. Maybe he’d miscalculated, taken the mask off too soon. He could feel the fury cracking through the easy smirk he wore at the same time that Riku’s hatred lost its edge.

_Pity._ He was being thrown pity, like he was some miserable, half-starved mongrel. He could barely keep his hands from shaking. He’d show him where he could put his _pity_.

“You don't have to be what they made you," Riku began, but Vanitas cut him off with a snarl.

“It’s because I look like him, isn’t it? You just can’t bear to raise a keyblade against this face again. Isn’t that _precious_?”

Riku reared back, stunned.

“Poor Riku,” he went on. “So bored with his peaceful, perfect existence that he destroyed his own world, and now he thinks just because he agreed to a tether and learned a few fancy tricks with a keyblade, he’s _saved_. How many existences did you end for their Hero of Light? Did you think you were _justified_?”

He could see it all over his face. _Guilt_. Guilt wouldn’t have stopped him two years ago, but here it was, ruining him. He really made it too easy. It had been harder shoving _Ventus_ out of the nest, and that had only taken the tiniest seed of suspicion.

“If it wasn’t for _him_ ,” Vanitas hissed, “you’d be with _us_. You know it. A part of you already is.” He drew back, and Riku followed, swaying forward just a hair, teeth bared. Good. Let him be angry. Let him give chase. People desperate to prove themselves always uncovered hard truths; given enough prodding, Riku would see the so-called light.

“What are you _talking about_ ,” he ground out.

“You'll see,” Vanitas said with a nasty grin. He hoped to be there when he did. Maybe he’d even be furious enough to put an end to the spare; that’d be a sight, poetic. “It’s almost tragic- I’ve never seen anyone so desperate to believe their own lip service.” He waited a breath, then struck hard and fast. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? _Lip service_? Or has the white knight not earned his kiss?”

Riku blanched, then his face twisted, fury making his eyes bright. _That’s it_ , Vanitas thought. _There it is_. _So close to gold._

“Running your mouth about _what they made you_ ,” Vanitas hissed. “I bet _they_ told you that you were on the “ _right_ ” side now. The side of the _light._ But it’s the same, isn’t it? They point and you attack. Face it. You’re nothing more to the King than another one of his hounds, a _puppet_." That one was sure to smart. "It’s Maleficent all over again, only this time, you welcomed the strings. I wonder, if you couldn't fight for them, how fast would they have put you down? I don’t think his _Majesty_ would have even _cared_.”

“You’re _wrong-_ ”

“Face it,” Vanitas said, “the only difference between then and now is they’ve made you desperate enough to believe them when they tell you it’s _wisdom_ not to use the best weapon you’ve got. They’re scared of you, and they should be.” He snorted derisively. “After all this time, you’re still just darkness. Maybe that’s why you’re so lonely with that new crowd of yours- you know you don’t belong.”

Vanitas saw Riku take a hard swallow and nearly laughed. Bitter pills were like that. But lucky for him, he knew just what to say to sweeten it.

“I know what you really are, and I don’t hate you for it.” He gestured at himself, and barely held back a laugh. “How could I?”

Riku stilled. All of him was unmoving as a statue- all of him except for his eyes. There was a flicker there, the heat in them gilded, and it was exactly what Vanitas wanted to see, that hairline crack in his impenetrable shield. He wanted to crow. In the space of one afternoon, he- miserable fragment though he was- managed what Xehanort didn't believe possible. 

"Good talk, Master Riku," Vanitas said, satisfied. "You want me, you know _exactly_ where to find me." With that, he left him reeling to slip back into the darkness. It welcomed him readily, wrapping him up in black smoke, where the despair always waited.

Loathing. Longing. Loneliness. He knew a little something about the long con, and he’d come to collect later. Doubt was a doorway; people like Riku couldn't help but leave a light on.

**Author's Note:**

> vanitas “what i am is darkness” kingdomhearts, probably: _nature is a language, can’t you reaaad, naaatuuureeee is a language can’t you reaaaaaaaaad-- so! ask me ask me ask me, ask me ask me ask me, because if it’s not love then it’s the χ-blade that will bring us together~ la da da da da da duh dum~_


End file.
